"If he knew, it would not be his wish," said Lady Dashwood. "If he knew about the other letter; if he knew what those women were like! Of course," she went on, "men are such fools, that he might think he was rescuing her from Belinda! But," she burst out suddenly, yet very quietly, "can't he see that Gwen has no moral backbone? Can't he see that she's a lump of jelly? No, he can't see anything;" then she turned round again to the fire. "Society backs up fraud in marriage. People will palm off a girl who drinks or who shows signs of inherited insanity with the shamelessness of horse-dealers. 'The man must look out for himself,' they say. Very well," said Lady Dashwood, pulling herself up to her full height, "I am going to do—whatever can be done." But she did not feel brave.
May had walked to the dressing-table and was taking up brushes and putting them down again without using them. She took a stopper out of a bottle, and then replaced it.
Lady Dashwood stood looking at her, looking at the bent head silently. Then she said suddenly: "This letter was posted when?" She suddenly became aware that the envelope was missing. She had thrown it into the fire in the drawing-room or dropped it. It didn't matter—it was written last night. "Gwen must have posted her news at the latest yesterday morning by the first post. Then when could it have happened? He never saw her for a moment between dinner on Monday, when you arrived, and when she must have posted her letter." Lady Dashwood stared at her niece. "It must have happened before you arrived."
"No," said May. "He must have written—you see;" and she turned round and looked straight at Lady Dashwood for the first time since she read that letter.
"Written that same night, Monday, after Mr. Boreham left?"
May moved her lips a moment and turned away again.
"I don't believe it," said Lady Dashwood.
"If it is his wish—if he is in love," said May slowly, "you can do nothing!"
"He is not in love with her," said Lady Dashwood, with a short bitter laugh. "If she speaks to me about it before his return, I—well, I shall know what to say. But she won't speak; she knows I read the first sentences of her mother's letter, and being the daughter of her mother—that is, having no understanding of 'honour'—she will take for granted that I read more—that I read that letter through."
May remained silent. Just then the dressing gong sounded, and Lady Dashwood went to the door.